Dr. Dennis L. Siluk’s has published 72-International Book. He is a poet since twelve years old, a writer, Psychologist, Ordained Minister, Decorated Veteran from the Vietnam War, Doctor in Arts and Education, and Doctor Honoris Causa from the National University of Central Peru, UNCP. He was nominated Poet Laureate in Peru. One of his books, “The Galilean”, took Honorable Mention at the 2016 Paris Book Festival and received an award from the Congress of Peru, for his cultural writings.

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Tale of a Young Tradesman

According to what
I have been told, there was a young musical dealer, a tradesman in the making,
in Orlando, Florida, named Arontaylor Gordon. He heard that Lima, Peru was a
very good market for purchasing well made, and inexpensive instruments, in
particular stringed instruments, that the craftsmanship was exceptional. And
though he had never been outside of his country before he had $20,000-dollars
in his bank account set aside for such an adventure in investments. Several
others within his trade who knew him quite well, were about to leave for Lima,
for just such an adventure, thus he went along.
They arrived the second weekend in June, on a Monday evening, and, on
the advice of the hotel staff, was told to rest and not to leave the hotel
premisesuntil morning and they would find for them
chauffeuring, and not to worry, that there were many bargains to be had. To impress a few of the staff members, and
prove he was anunpretentious buyer, Arontaylor pulled out
a roll of one-hundred dollar bills, in front of several staff standing behind
the counter, and one bellboy leaning his forearm against a railing, as a
multitude of guests were coming and going per near in his pathway, seeing what
a foolish lad he was. And as he displayed this compressed wad of bills, a very
lovely Peruvian woman of Trujillo stock: bronze skin with dark deep eyes, and
long black straight silk like hair that touched the end of her spine just
happened to pass him by (one of those who will perform a favor for any man for a sum; one
of ill repute) without noticing her, and she saw the wad of bills, with the two
zeros at the end tips of nearly each bill, as he fanned them like a deck of
cards. Said she to herself, as she stood at the glass doors peering back over
her shoulder at the hotel staff around this young gentleman, ‘He is daring or
stupid, he will be in poverty before he knows it, save, if he does not correct
his ways; here, does his journey end. The money if it were mine, I’d put better
use to it, should someone else get it, some lowdown thief, most obvious, then
what?’

This young woman, girl not yet twenty-three, like a Trujillano, wanted
to run up and embrace him, before he put the money back into his front pocket,
that made a large bulge, but instead she turnabout, and went up to her hotel
room she rented by the month for her amorousness escapades. Claudia, being her
name, waited for her personal, and elder maid, had her deliver a message to Mr.
Gordon, whom now was in his room dressing for dinner to soon join his fellow
companions, as she weaved her web to figure out how to get his money. The elder
maid, went downstairs to talk to the staff, to gather all the information she
could on the gentleman, even went into the small bar, seeing a few of his
companions at a table and got into a conversation with them, then reported back
to her paymaster all she had learned. Then went to the gentleman’s room, a
floor below Claudia’s, said: “Senior, a lady of well standing saw you in the
lobby and would like to speak with you at your leisure.”

The maid held a calm and regal composure, and thought little of it, or
so it appeared to the gentleman, as far as danger went; in consequence, he saw
himself far from it, actually he saw himself as perhaps the most handsome
gringo in Peru, and this lovely Inca Princess could not do without him, “Sure,”
he said, with a grandiose smile and puffed up posture, “I’ll see her right
away, right now!”

“Whenever you like,” said the elder maid, whom really didn’t look her
age, but was twice his.

“What are we waiting for, let’s go, go…!” Arontaylor said with repose.

The maid took him down to the floor below, pell-mell, by elevator, he
knew and suspected naught. She had a key to the door, and opened it and called
to her mistress: “Here’s the gentleman you were asking about, Mr. Gordon.”

He was quite amazed at the apartment, it was three times the size of
his, and quite elegant.

“Nice to meet you, Miss…” and he hesitated.

“Claudia Gordon-Tapia,” she said as smoothly as silk. Then she took him
by the hand and furthermore said, “We are related.” This was all new to him of
course, and she had him sit down, and gave him wine and cookies, and kissed his
cheeks, and rubbed his thigh.

“Arontaylor, I am most certain we are related, when I heard your last
name mentioned by the staff, I was greatly surprised.”

“I’ve never heard about this, of having Peruvian relatives, even if it
may be in the form of a second or third cousin,” recoiled Arontaylor.

“Oh yes, we are in that category for sure!” She exclaimed, “Things ill
done perhaps, and long past, but we are related.” Then she called for more wine
and dinner to be sent up for both of them.

“Well, if it is it is,” said Mr. Gordon, bewildered but willing to take
it at face value, why would she lie?

Then she embraced him more and started to cry, kissed his hands.

“I’ve got to go, I have to have
dinner with my associates, and they’re expecting me!”

“Yes,” said Claudia, “I understand, you are surprised, as well as I am
surprised, but your dinner is on its way, and I’ll have my personal maid tell
your comrades, you’re busy, they’ll understand.”

To this he answered:

“I’m pretty tired, and it’s getting late, and I suppose it will be
alright.” After this she talked about all the information her maid had supplied
for her, and it impressed Arontaylor some, reassured him, it was possible, and
as far as the maid, she never did deliver the message, she was close behind
hidden doors.

After dinner, it was quite late, “Alas!” she said, “I have two bedrooms
here you must stay the night, for a lady like me it doesn’t look well for a man
to leave so late, in the wee hours of the morning I’ll wake you, and you can go
back to your room and freshen up if you please, and we can meet later on if you
wish.”

The night was a tinge chilly, and Arontaylor had just jumped into bed
and under the covers when all of a sudden he found he needed to relieve
himself. His breeches were hung over the top of a sofa chair in a corner of the
bedroom, his money still in his pocket. He got up, looked for the bathroom.

‘In there,’ he told himself.

For you to understand what took place next, and what is to follow, I
shall describe it as well as I can: it was dark in the bathroom, and the lights
did not work, so narrow was it, he could not spread out his legs without
touching each side of the walls, it was a spare restroom with only a toilet and
very small sink, seldom used it would seem, or perhaps used too often, and a thin
commode 18th Century style, German, had been squeeze into one side
with just enough room for him to squeeze around it, heavy too, for all the
three items: commode, toilet and Arontaylor too heavy for the beams below that
were wet from leakage, as was the rim around the toilet wet and the floor soggy, making two
planks rot under the heavy marble like privy-seat, when he sat in place, allowing
his full weight to drop onto the wooden seat, the two planks, one of which had
already halfway been disengaged, and slightly fallen, he found himself on the
bottom of a stairway—he had fallen through, both planks over his knees. The
maid ran to her mistress as soon as she heard him crash, and Claudia on the
spur of the moment ran to the bedroom and took the money from his clothes.

There he lay, knowing good and well now, he was tricked. He yelled loud
and louder for help, but all Claudia did was shut the bathroom door, and lock
the bedroom door. He pushed the side the planks, climbed over the toilet, all
bruised from head to heel. Then it dawned on him, his misfortune, and cried
like a baby, ‘How short a time it took for me to lose my entire savings and
investment,’ he moaned.

“Alas!” said a staff member of the hotel, using the stairway instead of
the elevator, after several minutes had passed.

“Oh!” said Arontaylor, “I’ve been robed!” forgetting he was all bruised
up and could barely stand, and he explained his situation, as she called for an
ambulance with her cellphone.

To him, she replied:

“Young man,” said the maid looking up at the big hole he made by falling
through it: “I know nothing about you, but I know about her, whom you speak of,
had you fallen to sleep and not fallen through floor as you have done, as to relieve
yourself as you say, she would have cut your throat while in your sleep.”